Ten-Finger Exercises

Cancer and Faith

To be back at the hospital where I worked for eighteen years was a strange experience. I parked where I always parked and arrived before 8 a.m., but not running to punch the time clock. I went to the Education Department to pay my registration, then to an all-day workshop. The chaplain who is my friend and is now on staff there asked me to sit by her, which was a welcoming gesture I appreciated.

Actually everyone I saw was friendly. The Boss who fired me wasn't there. I had gotten along quite well with all the people I worked with, day in and day out. It was only a few administration people who, unfathomably, became my enemy. Nevertheless, I was apprehensive.

I had only heard about the workshop the day before, but a number of hospice staff were there. Evidently it wasn't posted anywhere, came from the hospital through a different channel than usual, and was publicized not at all well.



The speaker was a psychooncologist, a psychiatrist specializing in oncology patients, from a Seattle hospital. "Cancer and Faith" was not, regardless of my heading, the topic of his talks. It was a lot of the content, and the part that most interested me. He led us through the fears, stresses and effects of cancer diagnosis and treatment for people who have no significant previous mental illness.

He presented three case studies of patients, with segments from videotaped interviews that gave us a picture of how the person was coping, and specifically how they used their personal resources of faith and social structure to help them.

The first was a man who had had two failed marriages and an unprofitable business, along with somewhat alienated adult children. His doctor had given him 4-6 months to live. He did not even tell anyone of his condition until his symptoms began to worsen after four months. He had, throughout his life, prided himself on taking good care of his body, exercizing and taking vitamin supplements.

Somehow (I can't remember the details) he got a second opinion, and the doctor put him on a course of treatment that gave him immediate relief and improved quality of life for another six months, but that was all. In the video he talked about the measures he had taken that had helped his situation,saying that in treating himself he had been thanking God for the gift of life. He quoted the Bible in several places, one being the Romans passage about all things working together for good for one who loves the Lord.

He appeared increasingly nervous as he talked, smiling throughout. He did not mention any difficulties in his life, any relationships--positive or negative. I felt as if he had been trying to sell himself and his picture of what he thought the doctor thought he should look like, to the doctor and to himself as well. I wondered where or when he obtained the religious knowlege, and if had served him in any way in his past.

Let me say before I go on that all three of these people were doing the best they could in the circumstances, given their abilities and resources. We were in no way judging them.



The second was a very sad case, a pregnant woman with two small children who was discovered to have leukemia.
Her presentation was completely relaxed. She referred to her husband and herself as people who had come through very abusive childhoods and had finally begun to enjoy life. She credited all that she had been through in the past with giving her the strength and faith to be where she was now. She said she was like Shadrach, Michach and Abindago from the book of Daniel, who had come through the fiery furnace and were neither burnt nor smelled of smoke.

Even though the only possible treatment remaining for her cancer was a bone marrow transplant, which she was probably not a good candidate for (and in fact was unable to get,) she talked about her plans to have a big family, to become a counselor and to help others.

No one in our group doubted her sincerity or her faith. They commented that "she was not there yet." She had found a comfortable way to understand her story so far, and said she was not afraid of death; but she found it very hard to face the fact that she could not have more children. The chemo would prevent that.

A physician made the comment that her faith seemed to be serving her well, realistic or not. It gave her some hope to hang on to, at least at the time.



The third person was a woman who had a long history of colon cancer in her family, and in her it had metastasized everywhere. She was in a lot of pain. The pain that she spoke most of was for her family. Two of her sons were disabled due to Bi-Polar disorder. Her husband did not have a job and did nothing to help. She was the only one the family could rely on. She prayed regularly that Jesus would take away her fear and anger, her burden. She did not want her children to see how bad it was. She said repeatedly that she gave her burden to Jesus for a little while, and then she'd take it back.

She looked scared, but absolutely realistic. She had suffered tremendously, understood the reason for that to be genetic, not something she had done to deserve it. She would continue to suffer, but would do what she could to get her family more able to function without her. She looked to Jesus to help her do what she needed to do.



I could relate, uncomfortably, to the first man, who could sum up his faith in Bible verses and put it in neat, attractive packages while smiling.

Of the young woman with leukemia, I could only feel awe. It was amazing that she was able to see her life in that context and keep hopeful, and to be so ingenuous. I want real faith to look like that, to let people down gently, like in a parachute, as opposed to splatting them onto the ground when their plane fails. I accept the opinion of the other professionals, however, that it would not be quite like that by the time it was all said and done.

The third woman, the one who was scared and suffering, is the one I clearly related to. In fact, I found it very strange that many of the group admired her. I wasn't so sure I did. I didn't feel admiration or have any opinion about her. If anything, I felt embarassed, as if it was me on the screen, completely vulnerable. The priest said that this woman was the one he'd want praying for him. It's not that I didn't see strength in her way of relating to God. It's that I didn't see any easy answers, any rescue parachute, and I wanted to.